The Melancholy of Fleur Delacour
by imElenafreakingRichter
Summary: Fleur Delacour has suffered many injustices in life, but she tries to have a positive outlook on life regardless. (Inspired by "The Getting Around Challenge!" by Rayniekinnz. Different pairings each chapter, with some recurring.)
1. Luck

**Luck**

With us, it was bad luck from the start.

We met a year after the death of Cedric. By that point, I was still having constant nightmares about the return of Lord Voldemort, about the petrified look on Harry's face, about the screams of terror that ran like blood in my ears. I couldn't close my eyes without seeing or hearing something close to murder, envisioning lightning strikes of green raining down on everyone I've ever loved.

He wasn't there, but he understood. He understood pain.

He listened as I spoke, broken-English spluttering nonsense as I tried to explain how I felt. He didn't laugh at my false attempts, at my still-there accent. He didn't make fun of me for crying into his arms.

Slowly but surely, he helped me recover. The nightmares… were gone.

I liked to confide in him. He was like a priest in a confession booth except I was not religious. I told him secrets and wishes and ambitions. He didn't think me foolish when I told him how I wanted people to look past my quarter-Veela beauty and see _me_ for _me._ He smiled in encouragement when he learned of my private tutor lessons, trying to study the English language so that we could have real conversations instead of disjointed ones.

Finally, he proposed, after long kisses during the night, hands touching hands and warm embraces when it was cold; his family did not like me at first, and I knew it was because I was part-Veela. They thought I was too preoccupied with appearances to truly love their son, but I thought that it was them instead. _They_ were too obsessed with my allure to see my real qualities, the ones that mattered.

It all changed when he got attacked. It all stayed the same, too.

I suppose people thought that because he was no longer beautiful, I would no longer love him. How wrong they were; I adored his scars, they were like promises of strength and devotion. I knew then, that he would never give up, never give _us_ up.

Our wedding was the best night of my life.

That is, until the skies started pouring with rainfalls of fury: lives were lost as a family was made.

We lived an idyllic life, as best we could, for a while at least. Until Alastor Moody was killed right in front of my eyes, and his brother died in front of his.

We could console each other, yes, but for a while it was not the same. I still felt inhibited by my looks, and he still felt uneasy because of his problem with the moon. It took time, kisses, whispers in the dark. It took friends and family. It took love.

However, as I look at my three children, with their freckles and blonde hair tinged with obnoxious orange and small but mischievous smiles, I know it's always going to be okay in the end.

With us, it was bad luck from the start. But I could deal with it as long as I had a little good luck like Bill Weasley in my life.


	2. Hero

**Hero**

To say he was her hero was an understatement.

When she had failed to save the hostage, her sister, in the Triwizard Tournament, she had felt unbelievable guilt, followed swiftly by a horrid feeling in her gut. Was she okay? Was she hurt? Did she… No.

She couldn't have drowned, could she?

The immense relief she felt when _he_ finally resurfaced, holding her dear, dear sister in his arms, was indescribable. She wanted to hug her sister, kiss her saviour and punch the _têtes-de-merde_ who had decided this task in the first place.

But mainly, she wanted to kiss him. So she did.

Being part-Veela, it was easy to ensnare and entrance him into following her, walking into a secluded alcove not far from Hogwarts. She fluttered her eyelashes, pouted her lips, and went in for the kill…

Rejection had never tasted as bitter.

"I have a lot to deal with right now." He proclaimed, averting his eyes so as to not meet hers.

She walked away without uttering a single word. She didn't need to. Regret was painted on both their faces like a masterpiece graffitied with black ink.

Years passed by; she married a wonderful man, had a wonderful family, and a wonderful life. She had no one to thank but him for this. He had made it all happen; it was him who enabled her to have this _wonderful_ life.

But she couldn't help but think of him sometimes, when she read about him in The Daily Prophet, or saw a picture of him and his latest achievements. She wondered what could have been.

What kind of life could they have had? Would he continue to save her?

After all... he was her hero.

* * *

 **an.** I didn't post an author's note for the previous chapter, but I just wanted to say hi. Welcome to this new series I'm writing.

I'm confident that this series will be constant, mainly because I'm enjoying writing the complexities of Fleur Delacour, but also because I really like the challenge that was set. Inspiration has struck hard, so be prepared for an influx of chapters for this series.

Hope you enjoy! :)


	3. Creep

**Creep**

She could feel him staring. It was when he didn't think she knew.

But she knew.

She sensed his leering gaze. She felt his nauseating caress. She saw his clandestine smirk, hidden beneath a book.

It made her sick.

His black hair glinted in the sun. It looked like a diamond, but she knew it wasn't. After all: looks can be deceiving. His teeth were yellow, like pus. His eyes were a doorway to hell.

She shivered.

* * *

She heard him before she saw him. Confident strides, punctuated with heavy pounding on the floor. One, two, three.

Pause.

And he was looking again.

"Creep." She muttered under her breath. "Such a creep."

Four, five, six.

One last look, and he was gone.

She fell to the floor. Her heart was racing.

She held her head in her arms; began to cry.

He was watching, from afar.

* * *

 **an.** I do believe these are getting shorter each time. Sorry for the weird subject this time. I feel like Snape would be _that_ guy, though, who creeps on people. Based on prompt #2, "no sentences longer than 10 words", from "The Restricted Collection" by MissWitchx.


	4. Beauty

**Beauty**

She didn't have the kind of beauty that I was used to… but somehow, she was enchanting nonetheless; hair curled into a half-bun; dress shimmering angelically in the moonlight; smile bewitching, spellbinding.

She had the kind of beauty that I could only wish to possess.

She was laughing, carefree, at something Viktor said. Her eyes danced in the embers of the fire behind her. Loose tendrils fanned her face, but she ignored them.

She had the beauty of a creature yet extinct, a unicorn or a fairy or something equally flawless.

I could only ever dream of having her love.

* * *

 **an.** I never thought of this pairing before, but Hermione and Fleur could, strangely enough, be quite nice with each other.

Also, if you like this series so far, please review with any ideas or pairings, or even constructive criticism. It really encourages me and makes me feel like I actually have people who enjoy my stories.

(This is for "The Restricted Collection" challenge, and it is prompt #26, "no more or no less than 100 words". By my count, it is exactly 100 words excluding author's notes and title.)


	5. Kisses

**Kisses**

Fleur was never one to boast, but usually she was always in the spotlight. Especially at social events, parties, gatherings: you name it. But this time… she was not.

Compared to the others, she was the inferior competitor during the Triwizard Tournament. In Rita Skeeter's eyes, next to Harry, she was unknown; next to Cedric, she was too much of a coward; next to Viktor, she wasn't powerful or strong enough. She was pretty in pink and full of surprises, but the others were better. She was there for appearances, to give feminism a shout, to give the other competitors a better chance of winning.

It hurt, to be underestimated.

* * *

Sitting by a pond – the "Black Lake", she'd heard people call it – she gave a desolate sigh of despair. _Why don't you just give up and quit already_ , the voices in her head taunted. _You know you're never going to win_.

" _Ta gueule!_ " She growled, forgetting that there might be others nearby. She quickly whipped her head around to check, and was surprised to be not even a centimetre away from a peculiar-looking blonde girl who was smiling serenely at her.

"I'm sorry," she said, an uplifting accent accentuating each word she spoke. "Was I disturbing you?"

She shook her head swiftly. "Oh _non_ , not at all, _cherie_. Just 'ze voices in my 'ead." She blurted out without realising how odd that might sound.

However, the girl did nothing but nod. "Oh yes, they speak to me quite often as well. Always telling me to be normal, you know? I just ignore them, though." The girl moved closer to her, her eyes sparkling more brightly than the lake next to them. "Perhaps you should, too."

"Usually, I would." She admits woefully. "However, 'zis time, I fear 'zey might be right."

"What are they telling you?" She asks, her voice not laced with curiosity as she thought it might be, instead threaded with concern.

"To give up. To go home. To forget about winning 'ze Tournament, because it is impossible for someone like _moi_ to accomplish." She gently put her head in her lap, tears caressing her face as they slowly raced down her cheeks. They left water-tracks that marred her face.

The blonde-haired beauty merely shook her head, smiling as she took a piece of Fleur's hair, stroking it soothingly. "You should never give up, because who else will win if you don't?"

"Is it not obvious? 'Ze boys, for sure."

"Boys are useless, anyway." At her questioning glance, she continued, "Did you know that the Blibbering Humdingers try to eradicate every male that is produced because not only do they not help in any way, they actually destroy most of their herd's useful resources to spite the females?"

Fleur shook her head in amazement. " _Non_ , I did not. What is a… Blibbering Humdinger?"

"They are a group of small, snail-like creatures with wings. They fly around, whispering mean things to people and ruining crops. A proper nasty bunch."

"Oh, 'zey sound… terrible." She shuddered. They sounded even worse than Rita Skeeter, although not by much.

"Oh yes, they are. And most boys are just like them."

" _Oui_. I suppose so. I am Fleur, by the way. I realise I 'ave not introduced myself."

"I know who you are. You made quite an entrance in the Great Hall." She smiled knowingly. "I am Luna Lovegood."

"So what do you suggest, 'zen, if boys are off 'ze list?" Fleur asked in bewilderment. "I would 'ardly consider kissing a Blibbering Humdinger."

Luna laughed, a tiny tinkling of chimes, tintinnabulation; like fairy bells rustling in the wind. "No, but perhaps you would consider kissing me."

Before the part-Veela knew what was happening, Luna had lent in and pecked her lightly on the cheek. She smelt like fresh daisies and mud, and, surprisingly, it was a refreshing combination.

Fleur blinked in wonder, and then smiled devilishly. "Is 'zat what you call a kiss over 'ere? _Non_ , 'zis is a real kiss." And proceeded to lean forward and kiss her straight on the lips. At first there was no movement, but soon someone – Luna, most likely – started to greedily move her lips, savouring the taste of the other girl's peach-flavoured lip gloss.

They reluctantly pulled apart as they heard the ringing of a bell in the distance.

Fleur closed her eyes for a minute, regretting having to leave so soon after meeting this strange but wondrous girl.

"Can we meet again soon?" She turned to ask the girl, but she had disappeared.

The only thing left was a piece of scrap paper, tarnished with tears and dainty scribbles. Written on it was: _remember: blibbering humdingers make the worst kissers in the world. you are definitely not a blibbering humdinger._

Fleur smiled, closed her eyes, and the voices did not return.

* * *

 **an.** I don't know how happy I am with this one, but I am interested in this pairing; they're odd together, but I kind of like it.

I might not be writing for this for a couple of days while I get caught up with schoolwork, so while I'm gone please leave reviews for me to come back to. It would mean a lot! I feel more confident in my writing when people leave reviews.

(This is for "The Restricted Challenge" by MissWitchx, and it was prompt #33, "no het pairings".)


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